


Letters from Home

by sunny_tanner (bipallidan)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: (kind of), Background Relationships, Bisexual Sirius Black, Lesbian Marlene McKinnon, M/M, Marauders, Marauders Era (Harry Potter), Slow Burn, closet angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-07
Updated: 2020-09-13
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:07:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26344600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bipallidan/pseuds/sunny_tanner
Summary: Zephyr had gotten caught up in the wrong crowd, and it had gotten him burned. He was isolated, unsure of what the future held, and honestly kind of peeved. Sirius never got any letters from home. So every day at breakfast, they each got a letter. From Zephyr- his own worries and rambles of the day. And from Sirius- the odd joke here and there, along with some increasingly fond responses.
Relationships: Sirius Black/Original Male Character(s)
Kudos: 8





	1. i.

The clock on the office wall ticked away while the man looked over the paperwork. He sat hunched over a desk that looked almost too small for him, mustache twitching in thought every now and then. He occasionally looked up at the boy in the chair across from him, scanning his face, as if to see if he looked the part.   
  
The boy stared back at him, unflinching. His tie was a bit too long for his torso— a clear sign that he'd borrowed it from a friend. The same went for the suit. His confidence seemed to make up for it, though. He held himself as if he had not one hair out of place.   
  
The man finally flipped the paperwork back over and inhaled deeply through his nose. "What's your name, kid?"   
  
The boy cleared his throat. "It's on the paperwork."  
  
"I know. Just standard procedure."   
  
He glanced up at the clock before responding. "Zephyr."   
  
"Last name? Date of birth."   
  
Also on the paperwork. He hoped they weren't going to be going through the entire thing here. Otherwise, what was the point of coming two hours early to finish it up in the waiting office?   
  
He opened his mouth to answer but was interrupted when a rather loud knock sounded against the office door. 


	2. ii.

**20 September, 1975.**

The Hogwarts library was empty when Zephyr arrived. He took up a seat at the edge of a table in the center of the room. He wasn't expecting this to go terribly well, but he couldn't imagine it turning out to be a disaster, either.

As far as he knew, Remus Lupin was a quiet kid. His friends might've been loud and— well, 'loud' was the only word he could think to describe them— but Lupin tended to hang in the back with an apologetic look on his face. He could see how the guy fit in with them, though. Lupin was the one any of them could come to. He was almost like a parental figure, and he needed them as much as they did him. Zephyr always thought he looked sad when he was on his own. Out of place. Lost.

That's how Zeph had felt since the summer. It was half the reason his grades were slipping. Usually, he'd turn down a tutor; he'd insist to catch up on his own, but he was never any good at Transfiguration. He needed all the help he could get.

For now, all the help he could get included a professor-appointed tutor.

He wondered how this would look to his old friends. After all that effort to ignore them on the train and through the entire feast, sit alone in every class— he'd switched to hanging out with a Gryffindor in the library every Tuesday and Thursday. He really shouldn't care. It was none of their business, and they weren't a part of his life anymore. Still, he was struggling to shake the part of himself that craved their validation.

After a long while of contemplating the possible outcomes of the situation and doodling in the margins of his notes, he begun to wonder if Lupin would show at all. Maybe he'd judged him on his old crowd. He must think he's an asshole. It was a perfectly reasonable assumption to make, given the circumstances. He'd like to think he wasn't like them, though. He'd like to hope.

He was just about to give up and leave when Lupin rushed in, clutching a book to his chest and looking an absolute mess.

"I'm so sorry," he huffed and puffed. "I'm so sorry." He plopped the book down on the table and pulled out the chair next to Zephyr with a loud scrape, collapsing in it. "I had to deal with— something. Of the friend variety."

Of course. Surely those buddies of his were quite the handful. "I see," he responded easily. "No worries."

Oh, there were worries. They'd mostly dissipated now, however.

"So," said Lupin. "Transfiguration."

Zephyr gave a nod.

"I don't like the subject much myself, if I'm being honest. Perfectly interesting, just doesn't peak my interest as much as other areas."

"Personally, I'd prefer not to take it at all. Seems an oddly specific branch of magic to make mandatory compared to other, broader subjects."

Lupin blinked at him. "I suppose I'd never thought of that before." He pointed to Zephyr. "Ackerman, right?"

He gave a nod. That was indeed his name.

"Alright. I thought so. I've seen you around with, uh, Rosier and Malfoy, and the like..."

He wanted to cringe. "Not so much anymore, but yes."

"Oh?" It seemed for a moment as if Lupin wanted to ask what had happened, and then it was clear he had decided not to pry. "Alright, what chapter did we leave off on last class?"

"Seven," answered Zephyr. He was grateful Lupin was partial to simply getting on with it. He'd dreaded the thought of endless small talk before they actually got to the tutoring.

They spent about two hours in the library, going back over spells from the lesson previous and walking through where he was going wrong, before they'd decided to call it a day. Lupin was a good tutor, though with no experience with any previously— aside from a stuffy old piano teacher— he didn't have much to compare him to. Regardless, he could almost picture Lupin teaching for a living. When commenting on this, he didn't seem too interested in the career, though. Nor did he offer up an alternative passion.

It seemed odd for a student so driven to not have a destination.

When all came to a close, they packed up to go back to their dormitories. Lupin seemed to have loosened up a bit, and offered him the slightest of smiles before leaving. He'd consider this an accomplishment. At least he could count on them getting along.

Zephyr slung his bag over his shoulder and left in the direction of the dungeons.   
  
  


When he got back to the dormitory, Lucius was lounging on the couch with an Astronomy textbook in one hand, and a map in the other. He gave Zephyr a glance, a colder one than he was used to, but ultimately ignored him.

Evan didn't even look his way when he passed, almost as if he'd trained himself to tune out his particular footsteps already.

Regulus offered him a nod. It was more than he was expecting, but he still didn't return it. His housemate didn't seem surprised.

It appeared his old friends were going to make this distance thing easy for him.


	3. iii.

**24 September, 1975.**

The Great Hall during breakfast time was a little more relaxed than at other meals. Zephyr arrived a bit earlier, and there was already food on the table, so he'd set to eating. He was going over some notes scribbled in both he and Lupin's handwriting in order to prepare for the upcoming Transfig exam. Hopefully, it would go alright. After he'd failed the first exam, he could only really improve from there.   
  
He was halfway through going back over what he'd struggled with the last time he and his tutor had met up when Rosier came to a stop in front of him. Zephyr was prepared to pretend to not see him, but it was difficult to focus when he was standing right there. He was very aware of him, as much as he'd like to pretend he wasn't. It was hard not to be, more so than the others. He couldn't forget that every time someone would pull out the firewhisky, the next morning would be spent pretending they hadn't found any excuse they could to brush their mouths against each other's.   
  
Rosier seemed reluctant to move until he acknowledged him. It was a good minute or two before Zephyr placed his quill down and looked up at him. He opened his mouth to address him but was cut off.   
  
"I don't know what happened over the summer, and frankly, I don't want to talk about it. I just need to know if you're still doing quidditch this year because if not, we need to find a replacement."   
  
He hadn't even given any thought to quidditch. He'd almost forgotten it existed. Surely, he'd have a hard time avoiding his old friends when a few of them were on the team. He loved the game, though. He answered honestly. "I don't know."   
  
Rosier sucked in his bottom lip as he thought, and Zephyr tried not to stare at it. "Fine. You know I hate compliments, but you're a good player. We could use you. At the very least, we'll find a reserve player to replace you with if you decide to abandon that too."   
  
Huh. Aside from the last comment, that was a rather understanding response. "Ok."   
  
He received a look that said he was still unsatisfied before Rosier turned around and left.   
  
**  
27 September, 1975.**  
  
Zephyr wasn't sure what to do on the weekends. Usually, he'd spend it traipsing around Hogwarts with Avery and Mulciber, playing Gobstones with Rosier, or listening to Wilkes drone on about international Quidditch stats. Now all he had was studying, but he was getting sick of the common room, so he decided to make his way out on the grounds for some fresh air. 

He found a nice tree to sit under, conveniently unoccupied and opened his Charms textbook. He remained undisturbed for quite some time before he heard the chattering of a group of students, quieting down and coming to a stop before him. He looked up, having to shield his eyes from the sun with his hand to make out their faces. When his eyes finally adjusted, he recognized them as Lupin's aforementioned friends: Potter, Black, and Pettigrew.   
  
He'd never spoken to them before, so it was... odd to say the least, that they were here.   
  
Potter was the first to speak. "Hi."   
  
Zephyr raised an eyebrow.   
  
"We usually sit here, is all."   
  
He wasn't sure if that was meant to be rude or not. Regardless, he didn't like it. "I wasn't aware you could own pieces of public ground." 

Before Potter could respond once more, Lupin attempted to take control of the conversation. "This is Zephyr Ackerman, the one I'm tutoring. He's nice."   
  
That was honestly the best review he could've asked for. He gave the group a nod.   
  
Black was next to speak. "Aren't you friends with Avery and Mulciber?"   
  
"I—"  
  
"You heard what they did to MacDonald, right?"  
  
"No. I don't believe I did."   
  
"Awful."   
  
"I wouldn't doubt it."   
  
Black seemed at the very least surprised by his honesty. He gave him a "hm," as if he were examining him— like he'd get marks afterward.   
  
"And they're not my friends." 

"Good."   
  
There was a tense silence, and then Lupin cleared his throat in an attempt to dispel it. Zephyr stood up. "Not as if there aren't other trees on the grounds if you're partial to this one."   
  
"Wouldn't you—" started Lupin, stopping to think. Probably mulling it over in his mind to make sure it was what he wanted to say. "Wouldn't you want to join us?"   
  
Potter gave Lupin a look that suggested that was absolutely not what he should have said. Zephyr looked over the others— Black still seemed to have a red quill flitting away in his mind, grading Zeph on his acceptability or whatever, Potter seemed appalled at the mere idea of Zephyr joining them for a Saturday afternoon sit, and Pettigrew stood, as he always did, awkwardly off to the side, just along for the ride.   
  
He looked back at Lupin. "I don't think you'd want that."   
  
He hadn't meant it to sound as lonely as it did. Hearing it back, he wanted to slap himself. Pathetic. Nevertheless, there was no taking it back.   
  
"Thank you, though."   
  
  



	4. iv.

**1 October, 1975.**

The first quidditch match of the season was Hufflepuff vs. Ravenclaw, and so everybody crammed on the path to the quidditch pitch. Groups of friends chattering excitedly on their way to their seats milled around Zephyr, who was preoccupied with reading a letter from back home. He would've read it at a reasonable time, like at breakfast, but the family owl had apparently arrived a bit late and dropped it off on his way down to the pitch.   
  
His reading was interrupted when he felt a pressure on his side, and lurched off to the right, slamming into another group of students. "Woah—" said a familiar voice. "Avery, what the hell?"   
  
When Zephyr whirled around to see who he'd knocked into, Potter was standing there, brushing at his robes. Avery was already disappearing into the crowd, laughing with someone who sounded a lot like Rosier. 

"'Not friends,' seems about right," said Black from the other side of Potter.   
  
"They've never done that before," was all he could think to say. Although they were ignoring him in return, it seemed they still harbored some ill will about his sudden shift in dedication, and they wanted him to know.   
  
Despite his response, the four friends took it as a sign that he was alright; the enemy of my enemy is my friend, or something like that. "What are you reading?" asked Pettigrew. It was the first time he'd heard him talk. 

"Ah. A letter from my step-brother."   
  
"I didn't know you had a brother," said Lupin. "Is he not old enough to go to Hogwarts yet?"   
  
"No, he's enrolled in school, he just lives with my step-mother and father back in Germany. My birth mother got custody when they split and moved here in my third year."   
  
They all gave some scattered nods.   
  
"Well. You better come sit with us, then, unless you want to be shoved off the viewing platform mid-match," offered Black.   
  
"You're sure you'd be alright with that?" asked Zephyr, glancing mostly at Potter, who seemed the most apprehensive about his presence.   
  
Black gave his friend a light elbowing. "Absolutely," said Potter.  
  
He wasn't planning on sitting in the Slytherin section, anyway. He figured the Hufflepuffs wouldn't mind him sneaking into their crowd to watch the match. He'd still prefer to have an invitation, though, and this was the only one he got. "Sure."   
  
They began walking again, and Black carried on the conversation. "So how often does your brother write?"   
  
"About once a week. Sometimes he forgets, but he's in a bunch of clubs and extracurriculars, so I can imagine it gets busy."   
  
The Gryffindor nodded. "That sounds nice."   
  
"Do you not get letters from home?"   
  
He regretted it immediately after he'd said it. He knew he was a Black, and an odd one at that, in comparison to the rest of the family. He'd heard Regulus go on about his brother, and how he'd left home— how he'd never fit in. The other three friends had tensed up at the mention of Black's "home," and watched as his shoulders drooped. 

"Sorry, I—"  
  
"No, it's ok. No. I don't. I don't write them, either." 

"That sucks." It was the only thing he could really think to say.   
  
"Yeah."   
  
And there was that tense silence again. He'd do anything to break it up. It'd been so long since he'd had a casual conversation with someone, aside from tutoring, and even then it was ruined by the fact that they were forced to be there. He had no idea where the next thing that came out of his mouth came from, but there was nothing he could do to stop it. "You could write me."   
  
"Hm?"   
  
The rest of the group seemed as confused as he was.   
  
"You could write me. I love writing letters. It's my favorite way of communication. I'm not usually very good at it in person, as you've probably witnessed."   
  
"Write you like a pen pal?"  
  
Zephyr gave a shrug. "Why not? For the hell of it." Merlin, this was such a weird suggestion. "Sorry. It just... it was just an idea, I guess."   
  
Black gave a laugh. "I've never had a penpal before. As long as you don't mind my grammar."   
  
"Or lackthereof," added Lupin.   
  
"What he said."   
  
He was surprised that had actually worked. He offered him a smile. "I don't mind." 


End file.
